


Off the Line

by DragonXIII



Category: LazyTown
Genre: 1950s, 1950s Slang, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - High School, Gen, Greasers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, Period-Typical Sexism, Street Racing, Teens without adult supervision
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-28 04:29:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonXIII/pseuds/DragonXIII
Summary: Robbie is new in town, starting at the same high school as his older brother. Glanni is a greaser, into fast cars and loose morals. Sportacus is about to start at the high school as well. Íþróttaálfurinn is the star quarterback, with an aloof and dominating personality. Glanni and Íþró don't get along, for now. A story of new beginnings, new friends, and... new love?





	Off the Line

_*Ring*Ring*Ring*_

_*Thump*Thump*_

The sound of the alarm barely cut through the haze of sleep, but the subsequent pounding on his bedroom door was what finally woke him.

“Robbie! Get your ass out of bed! Tch, I can’t believe how lazy you are!”

A final thump echoed through the small room as Robbie struggled to gain consciousness. He tried to roll over, realizing only too late that he was tangled in his covers and nearly tumbled from the narrow mattress as he tried to disengage himself. Taking things more slowly, he succeeded in untangling his gangly limbs and lurched to his feet. He silenced the alarm and stared blearily at the time.

_7:30? What a pain_! He groaned to himself. _Why can’t school start at a reasonable hour? Like noon?_

Breathing a sigh, Robbie began to pick through the mess of his room. Not that the room was dirty, just cluttered, since he never bothered to put anything away. Tight black jeans, a black shirt, and a black vest with purple pin striping. After dressing, Robbie glanced in the mirror over his dresser, shrugged, and left the room. He found Glanni standing at the kitchen counter, his blue jeans nearly as tight as Robbie‘s black ones, and his leather jacket gleaming in the morning light. The older brother was using the polished chrome toaster to check his hair. Spotting Robbie in the reflection, Glanni put the toaster down.

“Ha, glad you finally decided to get up. You’ve barely got time to eat before we need to cut out.” Turning from the counter, Glanni made a face of disgust as he looked at Robbie. “God, you look like such a fream! You’re not really going to wear those threads for your first day, are you?”

Robbie glanced down at what he was wearing, but before he could respond, Glanni had crossed the room and grabbed him by the shoulders. Robbie found himself forced to sit in a chair while Glanni positioned himself behind his younger brother. Before he could protest, Glanni had a comb running through his hair, along with liberal amounts of pomade.

“At least I can make sure your hair isn’t a drag.”

Clearly experienced, Glanni quickly combed the pomade into Robbie’s hair until it was a perfect match to his own. Pompadour in the front, duck’s ass in the back, slick and shiny all over. Robbie tried to reach up to feel what his brother had done, but Glanni slapped his hand.

“Don’t touch it, the ‘ade needs time to set up.” Glanni ran his hands over his own hair, as if to ensure that his own style had set up properly. “Now, eat, I don’t want to be late.”

* * *

Sportacus spent his morning alone. He had woken early, and dressed in clean slacks with a blue sweater over a white collared shirt. Breakfast was simple, consisting of cereal topped with fruit and plenty of orange juice. A healthy breakfast was Sportacus’ favourite way to start the day.

Sportacus was used to taking care of himself in the mornings. For as long as he could remember, his older brother had been up before dawn, and gone from the house before Sportacus himself was even awake. Not that Sportacus blamed him, of course. Íþróttaálfurinn was a star athlete, and took great pride in keeping himself in peak physical condition. His morning routine included push-ups, crunches, and squats, among other exercises, all topped off by a five mile run to school. Sometimes, Sportacus felt, Íþró could be a little extreme.

Not that Sportacus objected to a little exercise, however. He was no slouch himself when it came to staying in shape. Average height and well-built, Sportacus could keep up with Íþró’s training regimen if he wanted to, but mostly didn’t feel the need to be quite that fit. Finishing off his breakfast with a fresh apple, Sportacus placed his dishes in the sink for later and glanced at the clock.

_7:30? Perfect_ , he thought with a smile. Whistling to himself a little, he grabbed his schoolbag and exited the house. Around the side, Sportacus found his bicycle, secured with a short chain and padlock. He unlocked it, stowed the chain and lock in his bag, and begin wheeling the bright blue cycle around to the street. Sportacus stretched a little before mounting with a smile. Íþró might enjoy a five mile run first thing in the morning, but Sportacus preferred cycling.

* * *

“Ah man, this sound’s so boss!” Glanni reached out and cranked the volume control on the car’s radio. As far as Robbie could tell, the increased volume did nothing to improve the quality of the music, but Glanni seemed to enjoy it. Robbie, however, was barely paying to attention to the music, gripped with fear as he was just being in a car with his brother behind the wheel. Not that Glanni was a bad driver. Quite the opposite in fact, Glanni had been street-racing since he was fifteen, and few people could claim to be better drivers. It was the speed that left Robbie white-knuckled with terror.

Glanni sang along to the radio, badly, while weaving expertly through morning traffic. Glanni’s car was his pride and joy. Technically it was a ‘54 Ford Skyliner, but Glanni had customized it so heavily that it was hard to tell. As Glanni gunned the gas and screeched around a corner, all Robbie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope it would be over soon.

As it happened, it was over before even Robbie expected. Glanni pulled over to the side of the road and shut off the radio. He adjusted the mirror to check his hair, then shot a look at Robbie.

“Well?” The older sibling asked, with a raised eyebrow. “Are you going to get out, or what?”

Robbie opened his eyes and looked around, expecting to see the school out of the car’s window. Instead, “here?” He asked. “We must still be three blocks from the school.”

“Listen up germ,” Glanni said sharply, “because I’m only going to explain this once. I may be your brother, but that don’t mean you’re nothin’ special. At school, I’m the boss, got it? And if you think I’m going to be seen with a nosebleed like you, you’ve got another think comin’.” Here, Glanni turned to face Robbie and pinned him with a cold stare. “I’ve got a reputation to think about, right? If you want to hang with me, you’ve got to prove yourself, just like anyone else.” Glanni checked the mirror again, and raised his hand to smooth his hair unnecessarily. Turning back to Robbie, “now, get out.”

Robbie didn’t see any alternative, so he grabbed his bag and got out of the car. He barely had time to close the door before Glanni peeled away from the curb.

_Great_ , he thought. _What a perfect start to the day._ Not only did he hate having to get up so early, he basically loathed any form of physical activity, walking included. Now, with three blocks to walk just to get to school, Robbie wished he hadn’t bothered getting up at all. With a sigh, Robbie began to cross the street, forgetting to look before doing so, and was nearly run over by a blue bicycle.

The rider shouted just before the impact, and with a panicked yelp, Robbie threw himself backwards, landing hard on someone’s lawn. The rider, on the other hand, was not so lucky. He had tried to swerve his bicycle to avoid the collision, but had overcompensated. He managed to avoid injuring himself by jumping off at the last moment. He performed a neat roll and came up on his feet, completely unscathed. The bicycle, however, hit a tree with a crash. Rather than worry about that, however, the rider hurried over to where Robbie had fallen. Robbie found himself looking up into blue eyes in a kind face, and a hand reaching out to help him up. “Are you all right?”

**Author's Note:**

> So, as you might have guessed, the story does take place in the '50s. I'm thinking late '50s, but I haven't actually decided on a specific year. Most of the slang should be fairly obvious from the context, but I realized that most people probably don't understand the word "fream". It simply refers to someone who doesn't fit in. Hope you all enjoy.


End file.
